


lost my whole life and a dear friend

by QueenWithABeeThrone



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: (I guess?) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Amnesia, Blind Character, Crack Treated Seriously, Ficlet, Gen, Identity Reveal, Open Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 04:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16233926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithABeeThrone/pseuds/QueenWithABeeThrone
Summary: Jester says, “So what’s your lawyer friend like, Beau? Is he super handsome like Mr. Morgenthau from In the Arms of the Law?”“Uh,” says Beau, frowning. “Yeah? I guess? He’s a smart guy, definitely, although a little weird. He lets people call him some weirdass nickname, like a weather condition or some shit.”“Why would someone willingly let themselves be called after a weather condition?” says Molly, frowning in Beau’s general direction.or: Matt Murdock is buried in the rubble of Midland Circle. Mollymauk Tealeaf crawls out. this is what happens two years later.





	lost my whole life and a dear friend

**Author's Note:**

> title is from Shinedown’s “Call Me”.
> 
> ...happy birthday to me?

“So how long are we supposed to wait for this contact of yours again, Beau?” says Molly, his boots up on the table again. Caleb swats lightly at his ankle, and Molly takes them off with a gusty sigh and a pout in his general direction. Considering that he can’t see a damn thing, Molly just ends up pouting at a spot on the wall over Caleb’s shoulder instead.

“Just give him a few more minutes,” says Beau, propping her chin up on her cheek. She’s growing impatient too, though, her eyes sliding towards the door every so often, her fingers drumming against the surface of the table. “He’s some hotshot lawyer.”

“A _lawyer_?” hisses Nott. “You didn’t say he was a lawyer!”

“In my defense, he’s one of the few honest lawyers I know,” says Beau, “and I know that sounds oxymoronic, but trust me, the only bribe he’ll take is donuts. And he’s good at keeping a secret.”

“An honest lawyer?” says Molly, incredulous. “Jester, have you seen any pigs flying around outside lately?”

“Uh, no?” says Jester, looking up from her sketchpad. “Maybe they’re invisible!”

“I think we’d notice even if there were invisible flying pigs,” says Yasha, wedged in between Beau and Fjord. Her mass of curly hair is beginning to come undone in the humidity of the New York air, even inside the bar. “The smell is kind of distinctive.”

“How do you know that?” says Nott. “Who even _are_ you, a Russian spy?”

“No, that would be me,” Caleb says, droll, and Nott absently pats his shoulder in response.

“Contrary to popular belief, there’s always a couple of them around,” says Fjord. “They’re _uncommon_ , but it’s not like they’re a rare species.”

“No, they’re cryptids,” says Nott. “They’re things you hear about in legends! And stories! And fake news!”

Caleb instinctively recoils at the last item, before pulling himself back together. They do have things to do here that aren’t debating the integrity of Beau’s lawyer contact, after all. “Mollymauk,” he says, “do you sense anything out of the ordinary?”

Molly scrunches his nose up, tilting his head to the one side and furrowing his brow in concentration. It’s always strange watching him do this, sorting through all the sensory input that keeps crashing into his brain a thousand times stronger than anyone else’s in the Nein. From what Caleb’s been told during long nights spent in bed, it’s always been like this for Molly: a world set aflame around him, and sometimes it burns too hot to touch. Today seems to be a better day, though, because Molly just shrugs and says, “Nothing.”

Everyone else around the table relaxes, visibly. Molly’s abilities might be strange, but they’ve come in very useful, and besides, it isn’t like he’s the only one at the table who has something that makes him special. Caleb can set things on _fire_ without needing a lighter, although he’d much rather have the enhanced senses in a heartbeat, blindness and all.

Jester says, “So what’s your lawyer friend like, Beau? Is he super handsome like Mr. Morgenthau from _In the Arms of the Law_?”

“Uh,” says Beau, frowning. “Yeah? I guess? He’s a smart guy, definitely, although a little weird. He lets people call him some weirdass nickname, like a weather condition or some shit.”

“Why would someone willingly let themselves be called after a weather condition?” says Molly, frowning in Beau’s general direction.

“I dunno, why would someone let some guy name them after a damn bird?” Beau snidely responds. Molly, very maturely, sticks his tongue out at her, and a moment later Caleb hears Beau’s sudden lapse into Spanish curses. “ _Pendejo_ , you didn’t have to kick me that hard!”

Fjord groans, and says, more than a little nervously, “Quit _kicking_ , you guys, we only just got here, and I don’t feel like getting kicked out of another bar.”

“I absolutely did,” says Molly. “It’s a good name, very fitting. I do like flying.” He leans against Caleb, and says, “Anyway, what does this friend of yours like to be called?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” says a new voice, and Caleb startles in his seat and turns around to see—well, a lawyer, definitely, a man in a pressed suit and tie with slicked-back blond-ish hair. He holds a briefcase in one hand, and he smiles politely at all of them. “Hi!” says the lawyer, sticking his hand out. “Foggy Nelson. Beauregard mentioned she’d be bringing you guys along, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Caleb looks at Molly, and murmurs, just low enough to catch Molly’s finely-tuned ear, “She wasn’t wrong about the nickname.”

“Pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Nelson,” says Fjord, standing up to shake Nelson’s hand. The nerves from before have calmed, seemingly, and he’s all Southern charm and polite smiles now. “I’m Fjord. You’ve met Beau. The teenager’s Nott—”

“I’m twenty-one years old and I have never ever faked an ID in my life,” Nott says too quickly, putting her fake ID away.

“You told the bartender you were twenty-two,” Caleb murmurs in his friend’s ear.

“—the artist’s Jester,” Fjord continues, unruffled by that outburst or by Jester winking at Nelson, “the big one’s Yasha, and these two here are Caleb and Molly.”

Caleb sinks in his seat, as Yasha gives Nelson a slow nod of acknowledgment.

Molly sighs, turns in his seat to stand, and says, “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nelson. You’ll excuse me if I don’t shake your hand, I’m very blind.”

Nelson’s jaw goes slack. His eyes go wide when he sees Molly’s face, and his briefcase clatters to the ground. He steps closer and says, “Oh my god.”

“Have I got something in my teeth?” says Molly, frowning. He cocks his head towards Caleb’s direction, not quite looking his way even as he talks to him, but there’s a slight, teasing smile on his face. Caleb chuckles, a little. “Caleb, I _asked_ this morning if I had anything in my teeth—”

“Oh my fucking _god_ ,” says Nelson, then he closes the distance between himself and Molly to pull him into a—into a hug? “Matt!” he says, and he sounds like his whole world has crumbled and rebuilt itself in front of him in an entirely new shape. Again. Caleb would know. He has experience there, in destroying and rebuilding his own world, piece by jagged piece. “Matt, you fucking asshole, _I thought you were dead!_ ”

Molly’s blind eyes go wide. They fix somewhere in Caleb’s vicinity, panic and fear flashing across them. _I don’t know who this is,_ Molly mouths to them, even as he hugs Nelson back. _I don’t know who he’s talking about. I don’t know._

Things, Caleb realizes, may have gotten very, very complicated.


End file.
